[open] Ack!

[Reilly]

You have got to be freaking kidding.... You're not, are you? Oh, just perfect. You're not.

Alright, so imagine you've had a few drinks. You already know you're not hard to look at, but with the alcohol setting in, you really know it. Without those drinks, you may not have had the courage to approach somebody attractive. You might have wanted to, even given yourself a pep-talk about it, but you still probably wouldn't. But with the help of some good whiskey, not only do you want to, you get yourself out there and you do it! What do you have to lose? Forget the fact that you don't know what to say, it won't matter in the end. You get the girl or you don't. And you want her, with every fiber, even though you don't know her name. May not remember her name. Hell, when he was done, she probably wouldn't remember his name either.

That was where he'd been in the moments before Beqanna had her way with the land and the magics. He was somewhere between lightly blitzed and incoherent with a female, trying to woo her with his ability and some Irish woo-ing song. She had been cautious of him at first, but curious of what he could offer, and been willing to give it a try. Reilly was a mischievous one, but a charmer- not a rapist. He sang to her and she swayed to his rhythm. He danced with her, and they laughed when they tripped and stumbled against each other. Just having a grand ol' time.

And then some kind of light swept over the land and for a moment he was both deaf and blind. The light seeped into and out of his very being, and when it let up, it took more with it than light. He swaggered from the effect which left him feeling very heavy, tired, and his head pounding. "Wha' tha bluidy hell was that?!!" It took him only moments to figure out what'd happened, especially as he would have taken another dose of his own special medicine to drown out all the unpleasantness. But draw as he might, it wouldn't come. Ack, he hadn't been this sober since... well since before his puberty had set in and he'd discovered his abilities. Fucking hell, was the world always this bright? Aqua eyes squinted against the sunlight as it reflected off the snowy meadow and pond before him. Nearby, a bird in a tree sang a song so loud and high-pitched the pale, red-headed stallion thought his eardrums might burst. Pinning his ears to his neck and shaking out his aching skull, he flicked his long tail in annoyance and stepped toward the water, hoping the cool liquid would soothe the raging fire burning the back of his throat. It did, a little, and although his body greatly appreciated the hydration, the taste of it was much more.. bland than he remembered it being in the past.

Somewhere in all the mess, the massive brute had forgotten about his female companion. Trying to ignore the throb of his head, he swung his ass around to look for her. Alas, she was nowhere in sight. Reilly huffed, but shrugged a heavy shoulder. He might have run away too, but he was in no shape to do that at this moment. That damned bird had followed him, sitting on the branch of a tree closer to him, singing its song as though mocking him. Glaring up at it, he struck out at the trunk, satisfied when it shuddered as a result. The bird, some kind of robin, had quieted for only a second before chittering off again. "Aren't ye s'posed to go south for the winter?" Lashing his white and red-streaked tail against his hide once more, Reilly lumbered away from the tree. Oh, his head. What to do now?

[Shahrizai]

all things are possible,
even the worst of things

He doesn't recognize him at first. It has been ages since he had last seen the red-capped white stallion. So much has changed in the intervening years, so many things had happened. He had lived, he had nearly died, he had loved, and he had grieved. So much gained and so much lost.

For a moment, he wonders if his old one-time friend would recognize him. Certainly he has changed. Physically of course, he is not much different. A little older, a little grayer, but still a large blue roan stallion without a tail. His eyes are a little less bright, a little less jovial, a little more tired and careworn, a little wiser, but still the same warm brown. Of course, he lacks the cat ears and slinky, curling cat tail he had sported last time they had met. But that's not really noticeable, right?

”Reilly?” he asks, deep voice questioning, a bit incredulous. ”Good god, it's been ages!”

And it has. So very much has changed. He had been through agony, become one with the shadows before Beqanna has seen fit to reclaim her rampant magic (he hadn't wanted them, at first. Had hated them, in fact. But now, he finds himself missing them, the shadows, missing their cool embrace). He has lost love and family and self. But he has gained too, so much bad tempered by a few good things that make everything worth living, worth enduring. His love, his beautiful children. He would give up anything for them, everything.

And he nearly has, but here he is. Alive and well, with his new family whole. A little bit less in self, in gifts, but still intact. And now, he has a little bit more. An old friend.

Albeit one who looks a bit… grumpy. ”You don't look so well, my friend.” A bit of grin teases his lips then. He too will remembers the after effects of the, er, gift his friend once had, and he wouldn't be surprised if the stallion is currently suffering those same effects in light of recent events.

shahrizai

hestoni x scorch

[Reilly]

His steps were slow and heavy, his head low with neck level to his spine. Due to the deep throb of his brain, he seemed unable to carry it any higher than that. He barely even recognized he was moving, only that the thump thump of his heavy footfall in the snow was oddly soothing. The cold winter breeze was additionally soothing, chasing off the heat of the sun as it beat down on his alabaster back, unshrouded by clouds nor shade from any tree. Stupid, really. It was cold out here, freezing almost, and yet he was sweating.

Summed up, this sucks. The big pale redhead, usually jovial and cheery, brought down by a bloody hangover from hell. How did this even happen? Reilly didn't get hangovers! He hadn't felt pain like this since he was not more than a teen in horse years, still figuring out his abilities and one night when he'd gone too far with it. But never once since then. Better question: Why did this happen? And why can't he make it stop? Why can't he draw that sweet, sweet elation that charged him, fired him up, provided him with a level of bliss only he could achieve. It had always been there. Always when he wanted it or when the time had felt right. And really, when hadn't the time felt right? The stallion wouldn't say he was Always drunk, because he didn't always use it. But time spent sober had been fewer and further between. He loved the feeling, had embraced it easily. And now, he couldn't reach it. Felt an emptiness unfillable by food or water. In fact, merely attempting to induce that delectable sensation sent shards of pain through his skull. Ugh, don't do that again.

Thoroughly distracted and miserable as he was, the man was completely unaware of the bustling activity in the meadow all around him. And truthfully, he couldn't have cared. His mind was a roiling blur, blue-green eyes almost completely shielded by his white lids. So when the blue roan approached, he might have plowed right into him as they had upon their first meeting, if he'd been a little more in front of him. Thankfully not, however, for such a collision in his current state may have proved rather disastrous. Still, he was utterly ignorant of his presence, until.. "Reilly?" The surprise of hearing his name caused him to jerk his head to the sound. Immediately, the throbbing ache in his head intensified ten-fold and he clenched his eyes against the pain, ears flattening to his neck. "Good god, it's been ages!"

At first, the only sound that came from the snowy stallion was an agonized groan. "Oy! Ye don't hav'ta shout, laddie, I'm right here.." His voice was rough and cracked, as though he hadn't had a drink in days. It took him several deep breaths to allow the horrid ache of his head and neck to settle back to a tolerable degree before he could open his eyes and glare at the speaker who dared to startle him. Once he managed it, though, the heat easily faded from his gaze as he looked the man over. The black-ish face, the body broad and stout and bluish-grey, the large brown eyes. There were many things different about the stallion, but enough was the same for Reilly to place him in his memory. "Bluidy hell.. Shah?" He did his best to ignore the ache and throb as he lifted his head to view him better, sharing the man's incredulity.

"Well color me gobsmacked. It must'a been donkey's years since I seen ya!" He attempted a smile and moved to give the other male a friendly tap on his shoulder with his muzzle, flinching minorly at the pinpricks stabbing behind his eyes. His old friend spoke again, commenting on his appearance and Reilly could only shrug. "Ahh, I don't feel so well, either, laddie. It appears I'm off tha black stuff fer a'while." And oh, not by his feckin choice, that was for sure. He couldn't fully keep the disappointment from his face. Cold turkey wasn't the way he would have chosen to quit. IF he'd wanted to quit, which he bloody well didn't. Maybe his friend would have some answers as to what had happened here, and why he was being subjected to this terrible misery. Forcibly so.